


Rewriting the Legend: A Second Chance

by AshenEclipse



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshenEclipse/pseuds/AshenEclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has lived until the modern day, never aging, never meeting - never expecting to meet - anyone from his time in Camelot. But happenstance brought him together with the one woman he thought he'd never see again... or was it fate? He has been given a second chance; the story needn't be told the same way twice. ( Mergana romance )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Things were different now. How could they not be, with centuries going by? It had been a gradual change in most aspects, nothing too surprising – technological advancements and societal changes followed a fairly steady path. And though he had lived through it all, sometimes, late at night, Merlin lay awake thinking about just how much things had changed. 

It was getting harder, for one, to keep a low profile. It used to be that he could simply move to a different town, magic a few documents. Not anymore. Cameras were everywhere, people posted photos on MyFace for the whole world to see, potential employers checked up on a person on social media. Yes, Merlin could simply magic his appearance, but he happened to _like_ the way he looked. And the enchantment was draining to keep going constantly: he'd rather save his magical reserves for a time when he really needed them. 

After all, just because Arthur and Camelot was gone didn't mean there weren't evil magics still lurking. Over the years, they had become fewer and less powerful as people stopped believing in magic – but that didn't mean they were gone entirely. 

It was a morning after a restless night that found Merlin flipping through the daily paper looking for help wanted ads. His bank account was lower than he would like – if he had to disappear in a hurry, he didn't think his current funds would last him more than a year. And though Merlin knew how to survive in the wilderness, he had become rather accustomed to the level of comfort the modern world provided. 

A sip of tea – he had never developed a fondness for coffee – and a bite of toast later, he found something that caught his eye. A casting call for extras, for a BBC period piece. Not his typical style, though the pay the advertisement was claiming was quite decent. Merlin wasn't interested in being in front of the camera, but he did wonder if they needed assistance behind the scenes. He did have a degree in history – among other things – that might serve as good basis to be a consultant. Yes, he had _lived_ through history, but that wasn't something he could exactly go around saying. 

If he could convince them to give him a job behind the scenes, it might prove to be interesting to say the least. 

...Merlin didn't pause to wonder why he wanted to have a job as part of a television show. But something inside him convinced him that he needed to give this particular show a chance. 

\- - - 

“This isn't right.” A woman with dark brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail moaned. She scribbled on the piece of paper, trying to find the perfect way to frame the scene. She had to make sure everything was perfect after all – fresh out of college, she had a chance of a lifetime to be working on this program. She wasn't about to mess things up by not having everything just right. If someone questioned her abilities, even once, she felt as if she might never have another chance. 

And she _needed_ the chance to tell this story. It had been something she worked on since she first heard the legends of King Arthur as a child; it called to her in a way she couldn't quite understand. But a deep part of her knew that this was the time to tell this tale, _knew_ that the tale had to be told _now_ , before the chance to tell it was gone for good. 

“Miss Liphae?” There was a knock on the door and a secretary popped her head in. “The historical consultant is hear to meet with you.” 

The dark-haired woman held back a look. It wasn't the historical consultant's fault that the BBC wanted them to meet. The company just didn't _understand_ that she needed no help with the history. She had been learning all she could about the middle ages, about King Arthur, since she was little. She was perfectly capable of doing this all on her own, thank you very much. “Go ahead and let him in.” Might as well get this over with. 

A young man looking to be about her age came into the room. His dark hair fell messily about his head, as if he had been running his fingers through it recently. His ears stuck out a bit, a trait that gave him a bit of a goofy appearance, yet at the same time made him seem real and human. He had strong cheekbones and a full mouth, his eyes a spellbinding blue. Nothing about him – besides his eyes – was particularly handsome, yet taken together she thought the young man before her was quite perfect. 

_This_ is what the main character of the show should look like. She had thought the actor they had found was well enough, but _this_ young man's appearance was _perfect_. Pity he probably wasn't an actor, and that the contracts had already been signed. 

“Mr. Dragune?” She asked, standing up from her desk and holding out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I'm Morgan Liphae.” 

\- - - 

He had known before she had spoken who she was. It didn't matter that centuries had passed, that he hadn't seen her since her had driven Excalibur into her flesh. But then, there had been hatred that had course through her very essence. This woman... she reminded him of the Morgana that he had first met in Camelot, the Morgana that would don armor to go help a village in need. The Morgana who wanted to save a young Druid boy who had magic, even against the laws of her guardian. 

How had she come to be in this time? Merlin had never met anyone that had been reincarnated from his time in Camelot. For that's surely what had happened – this Morgan was Morgana's reincarnation. Did that mean Arthur, too, was alive once more? That the cycle of prophesy was to begin again? 

He wouldn't let the same things happen. He would change the cycle. 

Merlin gave a slow smile as the woman held out her hand. For all that she was a modern woman and clearly well-versed in business interactions, Morgan still held hints of Morgana. He hadn't grown to know her so well in Camelot to not remember her subtle facial cues. For example, her current look was one of forced politeness – one that she donned often in Uther's court when meeting people she didn't particularly care to meet. 

“Merlin Dragune.” He clasped her hand firmly in his. Were this even a half a century earlier, Merlin might have been tempted to bow and kiss her hand – for so many years, that was the proper greeting. But this _wasn't_ then, and bowing over her hand was more likely to offend than charm. 

“Merlin?” She asked, raising a brow. To Merlin, it looked like she was also holding back a true smile. 

“Yes. My parents were fond of the legend of king Arthur. You can imagine the teasing I got in school.” He ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to become even messier than it normally was. 

“I can imagine.” She sat down once again, that hidden smile still playing about her lips. “I'm guessing you don't _know_ what this show is?” She gestured for him to take a seat as well. 

“I was only informed it was period piece from the early Middle Ages.” Merlin commented as he sat. 

Morgan's hidden smile was no longer hidden. A small chuckle escaped her. “Than you must excuse me for finding your name so amusing. You see, the show is not simply a period piece. It is the story of King Arthur and his court, before he was King Arthur. The main character is Merlin. It may be fate that you are here.” 

Morgana was writing a show about _him_? While Merlin wasn't shocked that she would choose this topic, he was surprised she would focus on him. Fate indeed. 

\- - - 

His name was _Merlin_. Now, even more than before, Morgan was convinced he should be the lead of the show. “I don't suppose you happen to have any acting abilities?” It was a long shot – and would involve trying to get the lead actor to quit – but Morgan really wanted him in the role. 

“I majored in history, Miss Liphae. That isn't exactly a degree known for ties with the dramatic arts.” 

Morgan held back a look. His words _were_ true, blast him. “No, I suppose not. Still, what a show it could be with someone who is named after the wizard himself to be playing Merlin.” 

“As far as I knew, all the main actors were secured. And I would do horrible in front of a camera – you are better off with me behind the scenes.” 

Something about him made her feel comfortable enough that Morgan _did_ let him see the face she pulled this time. Her lips pursed as if she tasted something bitter. Again, he was right. She had a feeling that his being right would be his _thing_. It perhaps came with the name. “If you insist. Though to be perfectly honest, Mr. Dragune, I'm not sure what help you'll be. I may not have majored in history, but I have studied it in my own time. I do think I know what I'm doing.” 

She didn't need _help_. She wanted to be clear about that to this young man. Morgan wasn't stupid, and she didn't want him to think she was. “The company, however, insists on a consultant. So no matter what, we will be working together. Or, rather, _I_ will be working, and you will be here to look handsome. I suggest you bring a book to read next time. You'll be bored otherwise.” 

Returning to her papers, Morgan didn't quite catch the look Merlin gave her. If she had, she might have seen something in his face that would suggest he would be anything _but_ bored. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Tomatoes, Morgan?” Merlin crossed his arms and gave the woman next to him an irritated look. 

They were on set, a month after their first meeting. The month had seemed to fly by to Merlin, time passing even faster than usual. There was something about the way Morgan threw herself into her work that kept Merlin entertained while they were together – much to the woman's apparent annoyance. 

“Yes, Merlin, tomatoes.” She didn't even look up from the script she was currently going over. 

“You do realize that tomatoes are a New World-” 

“ _Yes,_ Merlin.” Morgan cut him off with a snap, finally looking at him. “What _you_ must realize is that sometimes historical accuracy must be sacrificed for visual appeal. This is a show about _magic_. People aren't going to care that tomatoes weren't grown in Britain until the 16  th century. They care about what splatters wonderfully onto the character's face.” 

“ _I_ care. History majors would care.” 

Morgan rolled her eyes. “We all can't be perfect like you, Merlin.” She went back to her script. 

Perfect. An odd choice of wording. Did Morgan – had Morgana – ever think he was perfect? Morgana might have, once, before he had to poison her. He had thought he had made peace with all he had done. Yet being here with Morgan made him realize he wished he had made different choices. He was far from perfect. 

\- - - 

“You really think _that_ dress is appropriate for the times?” Merlin asked as he leaned against a wall. Morgana had never actually worn a dress quite like _that_ , all bare shoulders and low-cut back. Not that there was anything wrong with the dress, as far as dresses went. After all this time, Merlin had gotten used to the fashions. But when he was a young man, if he had seen Morgana in a dress like the actress was wearing... Well, Uther never would have allowed her to wear it, in any case. 

Morgan sipped her coffee, entirely unconcerned. “Merlin. It's a dress. Kathryn looks lovely in it.” 

“I'm not saying she doesn't. I'm saying, as a consultant, it isn't what Morgana would wear. I do have some idea of historical fashions, though the time period of King Arthur is debated, I do know something like that wouldn't be worn.” Had anyone asked him, Merlin could have told him exactly when Arthur was alive. But then that would be revealing he hadn't aged physically in centuries. 

Morgan rolled her eyes. “Merlin, if you want to fight with wardrobe, by all means do. I'm more concerned with fighting with the producers so my plots go as I plan. You have to pick your battles, and in the grand scheme of things, the fact that Kathryn isn't wearing an appropriate dress isn't a battle I'm choosing to fight. But if you get things thrown at you for not liking the designers choices, don't say I didn't warn you.” 

Later that day, when Morgan saw Merlin again, he had mark the size of a shoe on his arm. When she raised a brow at him, all he could do was give her a sheepish grin. 

\- - - 

“You're making Uther too kind.” He commented. 

“Not every ruler can be a tyrant.” Morgan rolled her eyes and flipped to the next page in her book. “People won't stand for a totally morally repugnant character. No one is that one dimensional.” 

“He banned all magic and kills people who practice it. I'm pretty sure that falls under morally repugnant.” 

“Which is why he needs layers, Merlin. Otherwise the nobles would have rebelled and Arthur would have become king when he came of age. And you can see what a prat this Arthur currently is. How would he make any better of a king?” 

“As you constantly like to remind me, it's a television show. You can make Uther the jackass he should be.” 

“And as _you_ like to remind me, you are a history major. The legends of King Arthur are just that – _legends_. I thought historians liked to deal with facts. And you have no proof of how much of a jackass Uther really was.” 

Merlin crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He _did_ have proof, but who would believe him? If he hadn't lived through it all, he wouldn't know any better. “Fine. I guess I'm just biased against Uther.” 

“Of course you are. You're named after _the_ Merlin. You're bound to have some biases.” Morgan gave him a small smile, and returned to her book. 

\- - - 

Morgan was in a mood. Energy radiated off her, making Merlin's magic tense. Did Morgan, like Morgana, have magic? He hadn't sensed it before, but it made sense that she would. Of course, if she had magic, she didn't seem to know how to use it. 

Clearing his throat, he sat down by the young woman. “What's wrong, Morgan?” 

Her eyes snapped to him, rage filling every feature of her face. For a moment, breeze swept through the room – for all that it was early spring and the window in her office was tightly closed. Morgan took a breath and let it out slowly. “Merlin. I didn't expect to see you today.” 

“It is the thirteenth. We have a meeting.” He raised his brows – Morgan had never once forgotten a meeting. She was ridiculously scheduled and planned down to how many minutes she took for a coffee break. 

“It can't be the thirteenth.” She said, turning to her planner, her fingers quickly swiping the application open on her phone. As she read what she had scheduled, Morgan let out an oath. 

“Colorful language.” Merlin commented. He rested a hand on her forearm. “Are you going to tell me what's wrong? You don't forget things so easily.” In the eight months they had known each other, Merlin had learned a lot about Morgan; she, in turn, had grown to know some about him. 

“I submitted the next two series overarching plot-lines for approval. The producers weren't thrilled with my choices.” Her hands clenched into fists. “I _know_ the tales say Morgana was a witch, that there was nothing good about her. But what if I want to change that? Is it impossible to think that Merlin and Morgana might have been able to work together?! ...why are you looking at me like that?!” 

Merlin startled a bit at the accusation. He hadn't realized he had been staring. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to come up something that sounded reasonable. But for a long moment, all he could remember was the last time she had asked him that question. _What if magic isn't something you choose? What if it chooses you? Why are you looking at me like that?_ He hadn't been able to say it then, but those words had struck a cord within him. 

“There isn't anything wrong with wanting Morgana to be good. It's just an uncommon way to tell the story.” His eyes returned to Morgan. “But the question is, why do you want her to be good?” 

\- - - 

Morgan stared at Merlin, trying to find an answer to his question while his eyes seemed to read every part of her soul. She turned away and slowly began to smooth out papers she had crumpled in her rage. “Because I think, if Merlin had just told Morgana he had magic, she wouldn't have felt so alone. That's why she is the way she is, don't you see?” 

Glancing over to him through a veil of hair, she wondered what he thought. “Morgana is alone – she has visions, she is beginning to blossom with magic that she can't control in a world where magic is hated and forbidden. She doesn't have anyone to turn to – and even though she trusts Merlin, she _knows_ he could never understand what it is like.” 

“But if Merlin told her he had magic... you don't think she would have felt so alone?” Merlin's voice was soft, thoughtful. 

Morgan turned to him once more and nodded. “I know it may seem strange. But Morgana seems so real to me. I think if she had been able to learn from Merlin, had someone she knew she could trust... Arthur's Reign might never have ended. Who knows what magic could have been accomplished by Morgana and Merlin?” She paused for a moment, then let out a sigh. “But it's just a legend and magic doesn't exist. I suppose it shouldn't matter if Morgana ends up good or evil in the show. In the end, it is only a television serial.” 

“But it does matter to you.” 

“Of course it does. I want to tell the story the way I feel is right. The way the story _should_ be told – not just how it's always been told. But apparently you can't rewrite legends.” 

“Legends are rewritten every day, Morgan.” He smiled at her, and Morgan felt her heart give an irrational flutter. “And soon enough I'll prove it to you.” 

And, deep inside, she hoped that he would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 2!
> 
> Technically, I probably should have waited longer to update, since I normally don't update this quickly... but I'm really excited about this story and wanted to share it.
> 
> I'd love some in-depth reviews on it. ^^
> 
> If you follow my tumblr, you can ask me questions about my fic! http://asheneclipse.tumblr.com/ (I post more than fic things, but I will occasionally post fic related things. And, if an update will take a while, you'll find out there first.)


	3. Chapter 3

Despite his promise to Morgan, Merlin had no idea on how to prove to the woman legends could be rewritten. He lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling as thoughts tumbled around in his brain. Morgana was alive once again, but Merlin had no hint of Arthur – and he had been looking. Arthur was the once and future king. Surely if Morgana was reincarnated, Arthur would be too? 

Or maybe it was only Morgana who was alive right now. But why would that be? 

Merlin threw his arm over his eyes and let out a soft groan. After centuries, he should be used to solving problems of magic. Why was this particular problem such a difficult one? 

Morgan's face flashed in front of his eyes. The difficulty of the problem was because of Morgana. He might have loved her once, had things turned out differently. And he could see the Morgana he could have loved in Morgan. If Morgana had grown up in this age, he could see her being just like Morgan. Driven, independent, passionate. Only her time had been holding her back. Morgan didn't have that restriction. It was what he loved about her. 

Merlin sat up as the thought occurred to him. _Love_? How was that even possible? He had only known the woman for three-quarters of a year! But had he not loved Morgana? And Morgan _was_ Morgana. The Morgana that could have been. 

Resting his hands on his lap, Merlin stared into the darkness of the night. He would have to make sure that the legend would change. He didn't know how, exactly, but he'd blunder through. Morgana deserved that chance. 

\- - - 

Morgan, too, had a restless night. It could have easily been accounted for by the three cups of coffee she had drank since dinner, trying to get into a creative mindset. But Morgan often drank coffee late into the evening, and it rarely affected her sleeping. No, her mind was churning over something more. 

“I think I may be insane.” Her cat looked up at her from his position sprawled across the foot of her bed. “And not the fairly normal way of talking to cats insane.” 

With a sigh, Morgan turned out her bedside lamp. Earlier today, in the office, she could have sworn she had felt a draft. Her mind being more occupied with other things, she had not focused on it then, but she had later searched for the source only to find none. If it had been a one-off thing, Morgan might not even have thought any more about it. But it wasn't the first time something like that had happened. 

Odd things had been happening often around her lately. A dropped cup of coffee that didn't spill a bit. Strange breezes. Candles being lit when she was _certain_ she had snuffed them out before bed. (She had gotten rid of all her candles the second time it had happened, and bought a wax warmer and wax melts instead. Much safer.) And that was only the start. 

It was no wonder Morgan felt as if she was going crazy. All these strange things didn't fit into her perfectly polished, organized life. She had always had odd dreams, ever since she was little. _Those_ were rather normal, easily controlled things. The rest of it... Her sister had joked that she was being followed by a ghost. Morgan didn't believe in ghosts, and neither did her sister. She had learned quickly not to bring up her current worries with her sister. 

Yet, for all the Morgan felt like she might be insane, a part of her questioned it. Because, if she was insane, would she still think she was insane? Or would things seem normal? 

Not able to turn her mind from those thoughts, and unable to use the time awake for something productive, Morgan tossed and turned for the most of the night. 

\- - - 

“Mr. Dragune, please sit down.” 

Melin sat, looking at the older-appearing man before him. He looked to be in his early fifties, his blond hair slicked back with oil. His grey suit was neatly pressed, the handkerchief in his pocket matching the dark gold of his tie and shirt. The office was as put together as the rest of him, nothing out of place – except Merlin himself. 

He hadn't been expecting this meeting, otherwise he would have made an attempt to dress better. Instead, here he was meeting an executive producer wearing jeans with a small hole in the knee and a homespun-wool jacket that he had paid all outdoors for (but looked, really, quite ratty after a couple years of misuse.) “Mr. Garrah-” 

“Please, call me Kell.” The producer interrupted. 

Merlin ignored him. “I'm not sure why you brought me here.” 

Kell Garrah folded his hands on his desk. “I'm told you work closely with Miss Liphae. That you have her ear, as it were. You are also a student of history... you must know well the tale of Arthur. Miss Liphae wants to deviate from the tale. As a student of history, I'm sure you can agree that telling the story the _right_ way is what should be done. Morgana Le Fay has never been a hero, as Miss Liphae wants to portray her. The audience will rebel, the show would be canceled. We wouldn't want that.” 

Ah. It made sense now. Merlin cleared his throat. “Actually, Mr. Garrah, the earliest tales make little mention of Morgana at all.” 

And there was a reason for that. Merlin hadn't wanted to talk about the sorceress. He was still too hurt by Morgana's betrayal, and his feelings on the choices he felt he had had to make regarding her were still much too raw. She faded away from the tale, little by little, until one night he had opened his big mouth to a writer. Morgana entered the tales once again. 

“To show her as good isn't the disaster you think it might be.” Merlin stood. “If that is all, I'll be going.” He didn't wait for an answer from the other man. 

\- - - 

“I had a surprise meeting with a producer today.” Merlin flopped down in the chair of Morgan's office he claimed as his. 

“You met a producer wearing _that_?” Morgan raised a brow at him. 

“What part of 'surprise' escaped your notice? I _thought_ I was just coming here.” Merlin ran a hand through his hair. “He wanted me to try and convince you Morgana couldn't be good.” 

Morgan clenched her fists and stood. “He _what?!_ ” Papers rustled upon her desk, softly at first, but more forcefully as Morgan clearly got more upset. She clearly had no control over her powers, no idea that they were even happening. This wasn't good. Without control of her powers or anyone to guide her, who knew what would happen... 

Jumping to his feet, Merlin reached out to Morgan. “Calm down, Morgana. I didn't agree. Come on, just breath.” He touched her cheek and turned her face towards him. “Look at me. Breath. Calm down.” 

Morgan's eyes met his and she took a shuddering breath. The magic that had burned in her eyes faded, returning them to their normal hazel hue. “I'm fine, Merlin.” 

If either one of them noticed Merlin's slip of the tongue earlier, they didn't mention it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Chapter 3.
> 
> I wanted to make this chapter longer - I've been fussing with it for what feels like forever now, yet kept going back to the original version. So instead of fussing with it even more, I've decided to post it and move on. Otherwise the story will stagnate.
> 
> I'd love some in-depth reviews on it. Reviews and discussions are lovely. ^^
> 
> (And if you follow my tumblr - http://asheneclipse.tumblr.com/ - you can get updates on my fic, and you can ask me fic related things. I post many things on my tumblr, but fic info is on there! )


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